Something about the CD, though I canít say I understand it. The doorkeeper was almost going to take it before, but he didnít. Perhaps it was not intended for him...

By Simon Downham (Beroean) on Sunday, January 01, 2006 - 05:39 pm:

So what are we looking for, a 5th king? we have four olden kings - David, Charlemagne, Caesar and Alexander from the pack of French playing cards. All we need is a fifth, or some representation of a fifth...

Could this be the CD that has the recording of King Canute engaged in a battle of wills with the ocean? It doesn't sound like tides refusing to be driven back by royal command. For a start, there aren't any royal commands.

By Hannah Kinghern (Kdoc) on Sunday, January 01, 2006 - 07:57 pm:

what about the bust of Henri - do we still have that? We don't - we gave it to the third doorkeeper. But...

Can we borrow the original from the doorkeeper from in room 3 and make an impression using beeswax or cheese?

Or maybe we can just give it to the current doorkeper?

Or do we need to barter? Well, let us see...

I return to the third room, where the doorkeeper is sitting reading a letter. A French Pyrenean sheepdog lies at the doorkeeper's feet, both dog and man in a state of abject despondency. Wrapping paper litters the floor. A bust of King Henri I of France and a photograph of the 2003 Arsenal football team are among the debris.

The doorkeeper looks up. "My true love sent them back", he says dolefully. "This letter... she's met a bloke who keeps sending her poultry... she says she hopes we can still be friends..."

His words die away into a kind of strangled sob. Unwilling to intrude on private grief, I pick up the bust and return to the fifth room, where I hand the bust and the four kings from the French pack to the doorkeeper. "Here you are", I say. "Five olden kings."

...a field. But console yourselves with the thought that your ratio of successful to unsuccessful guesses in 2006 cannot possibly get any worse.

This is a grassy meadow, surrounded on three sides by a high wall. At the far side of the meadow from where I stand is a river, with a bridge across it. The bridge appears to be guarded by a large troll.

Could you make one of those desk games that were popular a few years back that were supposed to demonstrate perpetual motion? Instead of balls of steel make them cheese balls. I'm sure a troll would love it...

Could you make one of those desk games that were popular a few years back that were supposed to demonstrate perpetual motion? Instead of balls of steel make them cheese balls. I'm sure a troll would love it...

Well, let me see...

There are some trees in the field. It is a matter of moments to cut off a branch with the axe and, using the cheese knife, to fashion a frame. It is as well that I took the perpetual-motion-machine-making badge along with oriental rugs when I was a Scout.

I cut six identical balls of cheese from the Gouda, and string them to the frame with the gold thread spun by Rumpelstiltskin. I take the finished contraption to the troll.

He pushes one of the cheese balls. It strikes the second with a dull thud, and sticks to it. The other cheese balls do not move. The troll looks at me.

Could you take the threes out of your pack of cards, plus the jokers, and place them in front of the troll as if to make a meld? And see how impressed (or otherwise) he is by six threes a-playing? Not very. You see, he knows the rules of Canasta, which do not allow threes to be melded.

By Simon Downham (Beroean) on Sunday, January 01, 2006 - 11:04 pm:

Perhaps Daisy and Diego would appreciate grazing on some fresh grass, so could you allow them both to have a nibble in the meadow? They seem to have gone ahead without waiting for permission - somewhat surprisingly, after all that straw Daisy ate in the fourth room. Perhaps it was Chinese straw.

Could you make an Australian style hat out of Rumpelstiltskin's thread and hang the cheeses from it? I think I had better get Rumpelstiltskin to do this - I did not have time for the Australian-hat-making badge.

The dwarf, eager as ever to assist, whips out a needle from his tunic and sets to work on the thread. Before long, a fine golden bush hat with six balls of cheese suspended from the brim is ready to be presented to the troll.

He inspects it from all angles, then with a disgusted snort throws it in the river. "I'm not giving my true love that", he says. "She only wears Kangol." Presumably this is some other dwarf.